Mixed in With Melancholy
by Nevertoomany
Summary: With Sam dead and Dean missing, their little sister gets pinned with their crimes and serves time in prison. But what happens when Agent Booth has information on Dean's whereabouts? AU sis!fic crossover. Part two titled "Traveling Alongside Torture"
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone! Before we get into this story, I thought I should let you know a little more about it. I started writing this story two years ago and _never_ expected to put this on fanfiction. Unfortunately, this means I neglected to put important information into the writing. So one thing you need to know is that Carter is my version of what could be Sam and Dean's little sister (if you would like to read more about this character, I have another story called "Her Life And Other Tragedies" that centers around her). In this story, she is their half-sister on their dad's side who came to live with them when she was three months old.

A few months prior to the events in this story, Sam is killed during a hunting accident and he is buried in an open area in the woods. His body is discovered during a flood when his remains wash up. After Sam's death, Dean leaves Carter and they don't get back in contact. Carter leaves and ends up getting caught by the police, where she is pinned with Sam and Dean's crimes and she is sentenced to life in prison. The story starts out in an interrogation room in the FBI headquarters.

In a timeline, it would take place before season 4, but several things are different, obviously. It is also important to note that anything in italics is a flashback.

If anyone has any questions or comments, please let me know! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, Bones, or any of their characters. I only own Carter and Jimmy.

* * *

She tapped her fingers on the metal table in the interrogation room. Tap one, two, three, four. Tap one, two, three, four. Her relaxed body leaned back in the metal chair and her legs stretched out under the table. Her fingers tapped one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four.

" _Sammy, hey! Sammy, stay with me, man! Carter! Where's the damn bandages?! No, Sam! Open your eyes!"_

Her body flinched, fingers abruptly stopping at three. Her arms folded over her chest and her eyes vacantly stared at the table.

* * *

Booth and Sweets stood in the next room over, watching the 17-year old flinch and huddle into herself. In Booth's hands he gripped three files, those being the ones filled with everything on the Winchesters' lives. Booth shook his head in sadness, "She's just a teen, Sweets. Do you think she could've been capable of all this?"

"What, credit card fraud, breaking and entering, stealing, and murder?" Sweets asked, but shook his head. "No, it doesn't seem like it would be her idea, but a little coercion goes a long way." Booth nodded his head and started walking to the door, throwing back a, "You coming?" Sweets confirmed and walked to the next door over, prepared to meet the young vigilante.

* * *

She looked up as two men walked into the room with her; one carried files in his hand and they both wore suits. She slid her feet closer to her and sat up a bit, ready to get whatever was going on over with so she could head back to prison. The one who looked older spoke up, announcing, "I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth and this is Dr. Sweets. We just have a few questions for you."

"Ask away," she answered as the men sat down across from her. Carter looked up at the men in front of her and sat up a little straighter when Booth opened up a file. Her mugshot shined on the first page and Carter cracked a smile. "Was I an impressive read, Agent Booth? Worked hard to get a wrap sheet like that."

Dr. Sweets kept his eyes on Carter, stating, "It might be if you actually did any of it." Carter's lips pursed as she leaned back in her chair, deciding to instead sit in angry silence.

Booth looked softly between them before pulling out a sketch Angela drew of the new body in their lab. "You recognize this man?" He asked, turning the picture towards the teen. Carter sat up a bit, looking down at the picture. Her jaw slacked and her body became both jello and solid at the same time. The piercing eyes, slight stubble lining his strong jaw; it was no doubt her oldest brother, Dean.

 _"Where the hell are you going?"_

 _"Out."_

 _"Dean-"_

 _"Shut up, will you? Just this once, will you shut the hell up?"_

 _"You're leaving me here? Sam's gone, now you're leaving, too?"_

 _He went silent._

 _"I've got some things down in Missouri I have to tend to. Take some money and hitch a ride to Bobby's." His bag was slung over his shoulder and he stormed out of the motel room._

"Nope," she responded coldly, "Can I go now?" her arms folded back over her chest as she leaned back into the chair.

"You don't recognize this man?" Booth asked again, not quite expecting that response. Carter shook her head no again. Booth pulled out another sketch, this time it was of her other brother, Sam. "What about this man? He look familiar to you?" Carter barely glanced at him before looking away, trying to focus on anything but the image of her dead brother.

She willed the tears not to fall as she watched a spot on the ground. The last thing she needed was images of his lifeless eyes haunting her dreams again. "Never seen either of them before, sir," She mumbled. She didn't look up as she heard papers rustling and two new papers being slapped down on the table.

"How about now? Do you recognize them now?" Booth asked, an edge forming in his voice. Carter's eyes remained on the ground. "Hey! You know how this works? I ask a question and you answer, that's how this works. You don't answer? I charge you with obstruction of justice."

Carter's eyes slid over to the table and saw her older brothers' mugshots. Dean's face doing his "blue steel" and Sam giving his signature bitch face. Carter looked up at the men before her. "They're my brothers," She paused. "What'd you get Dean on?" The men looked between each other.

"The bodies of your brothers recently came into the possession of the Jeffersonian Institute. It's being speculated that they were both murdered," Sweets answered softly. Carter's eyes watered. She took a breath and shoved all her emotions down until there was nothing left but calm.

"When was the last time you saw either of them?" Booth asked. Carter looked back down. She unfolded her arms and leaned on the table, holding her head up; eyes glanced down at her brothers' still faces.

"Um," she took a deep breath and blinked back her feelings. "Can I make a call, please?"

Booth nodded, "As soon as we're done here."

Carter licked her lips and folded her arms on the table, "A couple months ago, my brothers and I went on a hunting trip. We were just wrapping things up, cleaning everything, and laughing because 'damn, that was too easy'." She recited Dean's words and cleared her throat, taking a momentary pause. "Things went a little bad after that."

 _Dean wiped off a stray drop of blood from his gun and shoved it into his bag. Carter was dabbing a rag on her thigh in an attempt to soak up some of the blood. Sam was still in the cabin._

" _Damn, that was easier than I thought it'd be."_

" _A little too easy for me."_

 _There was a loud shout in the cabin and a crashing sound followed._

" _DEAN!"_

"Sam didn't make it out of the cabin," Carter announced to the loudly silent room. "Not alive, at least." All three occupants bore into each other. Carter became the epitome of calm; Booth had hardly ever seen anything like it, especially not in a child.

Sweets lightly cleared his throat, breaking the calm. "What happened in the cabin?" Carter's eyes swiveled to meet Sweets's. Uncomfortable with the seriousness and realness of the conversation, Carter smiled and leaned back in her chair.

"How the hell should I know? He was dead by the time I got there," she lied.

 _Sam lay on the floor, blood pouring out of his chest. It was torn wide open. Carter skidded into the room right before two bullets sounded through the stale air. Dean stood over the last werewolf of the pack they raided. His jaw was locked and blood splattered on his chest. Not checking to make sure it was dead, Dean dropped to his knees next to his brother, tears slipping out of his eyes._

" _Sam! Come on, man, you're okay."_

Booth answered, "Evidence shows he had deep gashes across his chest consistent with an animal attack. Any idea how that happened?"

"Rogue bear, maybe?" Carter shrugged. Booth turned slightly towards Sweets in anger. "I already told you, _I don't know,_ " Carter spoke out harshly.

Booth turned back to Carter, a stern look on his face. "We have two dead bodies in our lab, and you're the only lead we have. This is serious, kid; you can't keep laughing and shrugging this all off. It's time to face reality," Booth cried authoritatively.

Carter leaned forward on her arms on the table. She tilted her head towards Booth and spoke softly. "I helped bandaged my dead brother, Agent Booth. I watched Dean do everything he could to stop the bleeding. I sat by as Dean sat on the floor next to his dead little brother and cried. I helped load my older brother into the back of the car in his pine box and drive him to his grave ten hours after he died. I lowered him into his grave and buried him." Carter didn't blink. "I'll be in prison for most of my life. I've faced reality, Agent Booth. I've taken reality out to lunch. Can you say the same?"

Booth didn't answer as the two stared each other down solemnly. Sweets cleared his throat as he looked between the two. "After you buried Sam, what did you do?"

Carter licked her lips and broke away from Booth. She leaned back in her chair and looked over at Sweets. "Went back to the motel."

 _Dean white-knuckled the steering wheel. The car was silent, except for the purr of the motor. His teeth were clenched tight and no tears were visible in his eyes. Carter sat in the back, not daring to take her older brother's passenger seat. It was way too soon._

"And then what?" Sweets asked, face calm but mind spiraling over all of her actions; she was too calm.

"Dean did what any sane person would do; left for the nearest bar he could find. He came back as drunk as all hell and fell asleep five minutes later."

Booth inserted himself back into the conversation. "So Dean was drinking and you were-what? Watching cartoons?"

She looked down briefly before looking back up. "I found a half empty bottle of bourbon in Sam's bag. Needless to say, it was empty by the time I went to sleep."

Both of the men tried to ignore that little tidbit. They didn't want to have to add onto the young vigilante's sentence. If nothing else, they felt bad for her losing both her brothers in a short time period. And from what they read in her file, that was the only family Carter had left. No matter who you were, no one deserved that.

"So the last time you saw Dean, when was that?"

Carter leaned back in her seat, her calmness enveloping her actions. "Two days later, Dean says he has business to tend to in Missouri. He packs up and leaves the motel without so much as a goodbye. That was the last time I saw him."

"Was there anything suspicious about him leaving?" Booth asked, his mind whirring of all the reasons for Dean to go to Missouri.

Carter's eyes settled on Booth, her eyebrows raised. "Suspicious? We _buried_ Sam, Agent Booth." When Booth nor Sweets caught on, Carter leaned on the table, arching towards the agents in front of her. "There's only one reason a hunter would bury someone instead of burning their bones."

"And why's that?" Agent Booth asked, his eyes focusing closely on Carter's.

Carter scoffed. "Because that hunter is looking for a way to bring him back. _Dean went to Missouri to bring Sam back from the dead_." She paused. "I don't know who the hell he was looking for or who he found. He told me jackshit."

"Bring Sam back to life?" Doctor Sweets asked incredulously. He roamed over Carter's words, finding a reason for Carter to believe them. "He really expected it to work?"

Carter shrugged. "He's done it before."

Both agents remained silent, taking in the child before them. No prior reports stated anything about Carter believing someone could come back from the dead. And for that matter, nothing would lead them to conclude she believed in anything Dean had talked about in police videos: vengeful spirits, shape shifters, and assumingly anything related to them. Agent Booth was about to speak up when his phone rang in the near silent room. Still watching Carter, he pulled out his phone and answered it.

"Booth," he stated and turned his eyes to the table as he listened. He paused for awhile before answering again, "Send it to the Jeffersonian. I'll meet you there." He hung up his phone and put it back in his pocket. He stood up, gathering all his papers.

"Let's go, Sweets," he announced and Sweets stood up along with him.

Any smile Carter had on her lips vanished. "What did you find?" Her body slacked across the table as she gazed up at the two men.

"Stay here, we'll need you for further questions when we get back," Booth monotoned as he and his partner walked towards the door.

"Wait!" Carter cried, all her calmness leaving her mind. "Take me with you. You won't be able to solve this case without me. I promise."

"Yeah, we'll do just that," Booth replied sarcastically and opened the door, closing it behind himself and Sweets.

"At least tell me what you found first!" Carter yelled but knew it was useless. She slumped backwards on her chair and waited. She knew all her motions were being monitored in the next room over, but she didn't care. She looked up at the ceiling as tears silently sprang from her eyes. It was going to be a long couple of hours.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated!

There will be weekly updates as this story is already finished. I hope to see you then!


	2. Chapter 2

Hello again everyone! Thank you so much for following this story and reviewing, it really helps me! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, Bones, or any of their characters. I only own Carter and Jimmy.

Anything in italics is a flashback!

* * *

Seven hours later, and Carter was sleeping on the table, her arms giving her a cushiony pillow. Tears were still streaked dry on her face, making her cheeks red and blotchy. If she opened her eyes, they would be red. Her stomach rumbled in protest and an empty water bottle sat dejected on the tabletop.

Booth headed back through the building and towards the interrogation rooms. Before entering the one housing Carter, he went into the room next to it to check on the corrections officers watching the monitors. He walked in with his hands on his hips. Both officers were leaning back in their chairs, food wrappers next to the monitors.

"How we doing?" Booth asked, his eyes turning towards the screen.

The farthest officer from the door sat up, glancing at the screen quickly. "She sat quietly for a while after we gave her water. Then damn near cried herself to sleep an hour ago."

"Hasn't tried to escape or make a ruckus at all," the second officer added, "Not what I expected when I heard why she got locked up."

Booth looked between the two as they talked and he glanced over at their food remains. "Has she eaten anything?" When neither of them answered, Booth swore and walked out of the room and headed to the vending machine. He bought two snacks and walked back to the interrogation rooms. Instead of going back to the officers, he walked into the room with Carter.

When he walked in, Carter's head remained on the table. Her face was turned towards the door showing her mouth slightly parted. A strand of hair hung over her eyes, gracing her lashes. She seemed peaceful, innocent almost. Booth's eyes immediately took in her exhausted state, her red cheeks, and bags under her eyes. His heart pulled, but forced it back when he realized why she was here. She's an inmate, in prison for kidnapping, fraud, murder, and more all because of her brothers. (Sweets had mentioned to him that he doubted she would be like this if it weren't for her brothers.) And both of her brothers were dead, and it looked like she might have some answers as to why.

Booth shut the door behind him and lightly banged his hand on the table. As Carter's head popped up, her eyes adjusted to the light and new intruder. Her hands raked through her "bed" hair and fingers found her tired eyes. Rubbing them, she watched as Booth placed the snacks down in front of her. "Time to wake up," Booth cried.

"Well, look who finally decided to show up," Carter answered calmly and coolly, her demeanor contradicting her appearance. "Thought you'd forgotten about me." Carter, despite her growling stomach, ignored the snacks in front of her.

"Did Dean have any enemies?"

"Hm, getting right down to business now, are we? That's not fun," Carter replied, putting her hands under her chin, watching as Booth stood behind his chair, neglecting to sit down. "Why don't we talk about what you found that had you running out of this room?"

"I think you're forgetting who's in charge here. You don't answer my questions, I send you right back to prison where you belong."

Carter paused, running her words over her tongue. "Are you sure about that, Agent Booth? You see, you came back here because you got stumped. You got lost in your own investigation." Her hands fell from her chin and she rested them on the table, leaning her body towards Booth, one leg tucked under her body. "You need me, Agent Booth. You can't solve this investigation without me; otherwise I'd be back in prison by now. So I suggest you be a little nicer to me."

Booth watched the teen in front of him. All the innocence he had seen in her moments ago vanished. All he could see was her subtle controlling mannerisms. She felt the need to be in charge no matter what. And, Booth guessed, it followed right along with the person he figured her brothers were. Being raised right along with psychopathic murderers, her personality was bound to be controlling. The last thing he expected her to be was normal.

"Did Dean have any enemies?" Booth repeated, his voice as calm as when he said it before.

Carter's heart pounded in her chest, the only indicator that she wasn't in control. In her mind, she begged the agent before her to tell him what he knows. The moment he decided he didn't need Carter, she was gone. She would become completely out of the loop and would perhaps never find out what happened to her oldest brother. She was anything but in control. She was hitting buttons, hoping one wouldn't ruin everything.

Mentally, Carter breathed a sigh of relief. Agent Booth hadn't blown up or walked right out. "Enemies?" She asked incredulously. "I could count on one hand the people who actually liked Dean and _didn't_ want him dead; two of them being his own siblings. A lot of people wanted him dead."

"Anybody in particular want it more?"

Carter shrugged. "Anyone who had a family member or friend die by Dean, I would guess. But still, that's a lot of people to keep track of." Booth pulled a little notebook and pen out of his pocket and tossed it onto the table in front of her.

"Write everyone down it could be."

Carter sighed and grabbed the paper, opening to a clean page and clicking the pen on. She paused before writing the first name down. She looked up at Booth and put the pen back down. "Let me help with the investigation, let me see all the evidence. Then I can tell you exactly who did it and where to find him. Address and all."

Booth scoffed, his arms crossing his chest. "You're helping already by doing what you're doing now."

"In person. I want to see his bones, I want to know everything you know as you know it. I want to be _in the lab_. It's the best way I can help; I'm severely limited in here." The two occupants watched each other, their bodies seemingly frozen.

"In the lab," Booth repeated, mulling over everything that could go wrong, and all the benefits. Softly, he nodded his head. "I'll see what I can do." He grabbed his paper and pen back and walked out of the room.

Audibly, she sighed. Everything was going as Carter had hoped. She wasn't out of the loop, and was actually getting more in it. Grabbing the snacks, she leaned back in her chair and dug in. She was, after all, starving.

* * *

About an hour later, Booth came back in the room. The two snack bags were crushed on the table and Carter was leaned back in her chair, nodding off to sleep. The door opening awoke her.

"Stand up, let's go. I talked to my boss and he okayed you going to the Jeffersonian with me," Booth spit fast, leaving the door open and pulling a set of handcuffs out of his pocket. Carter's eyebrows furrowed as she untangled her arms on her chest and stood up.

"Really? What's with the handcuffs, then?" Booth slapped the handcuffs on Carter's wrists in front of her body.

"Necessary precaution. With handcuffs, you're less likely to get in trouble. Now let's go, it's getting late," Booth replied and turned around, heading out the door. As they both walked out of the interrogation room, they walked into the hallway and down into the bullpen. Booth gripped Carter's upper arm and led her towards the elevator, away from all the curious eyes of fellow agents. Carter ignored them, instead focusing on the ground in front of her. Sweets met up with them in the bullpen and followed them to the elevator.

Thirty minutes later, Booth, Sweets, and Carter were walking into the lab. The young teen walked between the two men and looked up and around at everything. The room opened up into a skylight and spread wide to several offices. People in matching coats walked all around her, causing her to follow them with her eyes every which way. She looked to her left and nearly froze. Beaten up and covered in dirt, she still recognized her brother's car. The back of the car was facing away from her, but she still noticed the trunk's lid was open. She could just make out a man digging in it, causing her stomach to twist as she realized there was no doubt he found out about the hidden arsenal.

Booth and Sweets steered Carter up to the raised platform in the middle of the room. Booth swiped a card in a slot and continued up the steps. As they reached the top, immediately Carter took in the two tables with two sets of full skeletons. They were cleaned of flesh, leaving just the bare bones. Slowly, Carter noticed a woman and a man standing over the bones.

"Booth, I don't think-" The woman started but Carter cut in before she could finish.

"Which one is which?" She asked strongly, hiding all her feelings and emotion just as she had done all day.

The woman hesitated before pointing to the skeleton in front of her. "These remains are Dean Winchester, and these are Sam Winchester," The woman then pointed to the skeleton behind her. Carter's eyes roamed her brothers' bones for a minute before she turned to Booth.

"Where do you need me? The last thing I'm good at is identifying cause of death," Carter asked, not sparing any more glances at her brothers.

Booth looked over at the Impala sitting in the corner. "Did you know Dean's car well?"

Carter scoffed and turned around, heading towards the car. "Damn near slept in it half my life," she muttered as she felt Booth following behind her. She walked down the steps and headed directly towards the car. She kept her half smile as she took in her brother's Baby. One of the headlights was busted, with grass stuffed around the bulb. Several layers of dust, dirt, leaves, and bugs settled on the entire car, tinting the windshield and masking the shine of the car. She was used to seeing it perfectly polished, with a rumbling engine and squeaking doors. As she looked, she noticed all the doors were open. A man was kneeling in front of the driver's seat, doing what she couldn't tell.

"Find anything, Bug Boy?" Booth asked as he came up behind Carter, who had stopped in front of the door. The man behind the door started spewing long technical names as he capped a container and stood up, his eyes first focusing on Booth, then Carter, then the handcuffs on Carter's wrists. At that moment, she realized what she must look like. Her khaki colored prison uniform was still on her body, her hair a knot down her back, and her face a tired mess.

The man stopped talking and focused down at Carter's hands. "What's with the handcuffs?" He asked, looking up at Booth.

"Hodgins, this is Carter Winchester. Carter, this is Hodgins, the bug and slime guy," Booth spelled out, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Winchester, as in..?" Hodgins implored, not wanting to end his sentence. Subconsciously, he looked up at the sets of remains on the platform.

Before anyone else could respond, Carter answered Hodgins' initial question. "I believe Agent Booth called it a 'necessary precaution'. Is that correct?" She looked up at the agent snarkily. Quite frankly, she didn't believe she needed the handcuffs. She wasn't going anywhere until she knew what happen to Dean. "I'm going to look at the trunk," Carter supplied as she walked around the quiet men having a whole conversation with each other through their eyes.

As she walked past the driver's seat, she saw more dirt and leaves. Not being able to see around Hodgins too well, she kept walking and peered into the rear driver's side. On the door, the ashtray was still stuffed with an old army man. The floor of the Impala had old change, more leaves, and some of Carter's old things (a change purse, dirty sock, history homework, a tiny pencil.) Shoved down in the cracks of the seat, there was even a bag of crackers smushed beyond oblivion.

Carter continued on towards the trunk. It was open, a small bloodstain showing prominently in the middle. Carter stopped. It was definitely Dean's. Hearing Booth's slow footsteps coming towards her, she quickly reached her hand down the side of the trunk, her fingers hitting a slit in the siding. Reaching down, she opened a small velvet bag and grabbed the first bobby pin her fingers graced. She pulled back, hiding it in her hand as Booth came around. The bag had been hidden in there not too long ago for the sole purpose of unlocking locks and handcuffs. Carter was secretly glad Dean had okayed the idea.

"You find anything out of the ordinary?" He asked as he put his hands on his hips and stood next to the teen, gazing into the trunk.

Carter briefly glanced up at the man before focusing down at the blood. "You mean besides the blood stain?" Softly, Carter slipped the bobby pin on the rim of her undershirt, out of view of the agent. "No, nothing." As she peered closer, she realized the false bottom wasn't sticking up a little as it usually did. "What the..." she mumbled before reaching forward, using both hands to lift the lid off the bottom.

It wasn't heavy.

In fact, there wasn't anything on the lid. All of the pockets were completely empty. Her eyes were drawn down to the compartments, most of which were mostly empty. All that remained was a jar of holy water, a wooden stake, anti-possession necklaces, spilled salt, and a few shell casings.

"A false bottom?" Booth asked. "Did you know that was there?" Booth grabbed the lid from Carter so it didn't fall down. Carter let go and backed up slightly.

All their guns, all their knives. Whoever killed Dean undoubtedly was a hunter. No one else would steal all of their mismatched weaponry. And no one else would even think to look for such a place.

Carter muttered, "I knew where every single thing in there went. It's all gone. Everything is gone."

"What was in there?"

Carter stepped back some more and put her handcuffed hands behind her head. Taking deep breaths and calming her anger, she spit, "In short? An arsenal."

"An arsenal?" Booth repeated. "So a murderer is walking around with more weapons than he started with?"

Not taking her eyes off of the trunk, she answered softly, "No, he wouldn't kill anyone else. He specifically picked Dean out." Her eyes flew over the car, trying to find anything that was different, anything that would tell her who killed her brother.

"Where did you find his car?"

Booth watched Carter. "In a ditch alongside a road. It was ten miles from his body."

Carter licked her lips, not looking at anything except a spot on the car. "His body, how did you find it? Where did you find it?"

Booth closed the false bottom and stepped away from the trunk. "Come here," he said, pulling Carter out of her mind and lead her to an office.

Carter followed silently, repositioning her arms to their normal resting place. As they walked, Carter looked around at all the workers; they didn't even seem to notice she was there. Many different high tech machines were scattered around, only a couple being used at the moment.

Booth led her into a corner office, guiding her to the back of the room. A woman with dark curls stood holding a small screen and was watching a giant screen on the wall. She glanced over happily as she saw Booth entering the room. They greeted each other and Booth introduced Carter.

"I would shake your hand but-" Carter trailed off, holding up her handcuffs with a half-smile on her face. Angela glanced at the cuffs and breathed out a smile.

Booth interrupted the awkward situation. "Can you show us what the scene was like where the second body was found?"

Angela agreed and turned towards the screen. She typed in a whole bunch of numbers and mumbled to Booth what she was doing. While the scene was loading, Carter looked around the room. It was pristine and all the technology looked expensive. In the office part of the room, there was several art supplies and art projects.

The screen beeped and Carter turned back to Angela.

"Okay, so the body was found over here," Angela pointed to a computerized area of dirt. "He was found in a six foot grave with only a few scoops of dirt over top of him. We found tire tracks spewing out of the field, but they belong to the victim's car."

"Dean's car?" Carter cried, looking between the screen and Angela. "The sonofabitch drove Dean's car?"

Angela nodded softly. "For ten miles, it appears. The car was found on the side of a back road down in a ditch."

Carter watched the screen as it switched to a picture of the abandoned car. "He drove the car farther than was necessary," she mumbled. "Was he killed in the field?"

"No, that's the kicker. It was a clear body dump."

"So he drove Dean's baby to the field, and then to the road? He could've just dumped the car near the field. Why did he bring it elsewhere?"

Her mind started spiraling until she realized: the killer loved the car. He drove it for longer than necessary, he took care of it even when he dumped it, and he left the interior the way he found it. It wasn't trashed, it wasn't bruised, save for the broken headlight, which very well could have happened earlier.

Then, only one person came to mind and every single piece seemed to fit together.

" _This is a beautiful car, John. Any chance in hell I could buy it off of you?"_

 _John laughed._

" _Nah, I get it. It's a family car and it has great arsenal space. But man, what I wouldn't give to have a cherry like this."_

The sonofabitch hated John.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Follow for weekly updates and reviews are always greatly welcomed. Until next week!


	3. Chapter 3

Happy February and welcome to chapter three! I hope you are as excited to read this chapter as I am to post it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, Bones, or any of their characters. I only own Carter and Jimmy.

My apologies for the lack of flashbacks in this chapter!

* * *

 _The sonofabitch hated John._

Three years after that conversation, his son got killed on the job. They were working with her father to hunt a witch when the kid got stabbed. The father, Jimmy Spacer, blamed it on John and wouldn't speak to him for days. He never seemed that mad at John after that, especially not enough to have killed him. And Dean? Jimmy had nothing but love for Dean, as if he was his own son.

Carter could see now that it was never love; he just needed to get close enough to Dean to learn his patterns to figure out how to kill him. Dean, after all, is not that easy to kill.

The teen looked away from the screen and stared off into space, searching her mind to find when the last time she saw Jimmy was. As far as she could remember, it had been years. They stopped crossing paths and keeping in contact after her father died.

The Winchesters had changed hundreds of phone numbers since then and Jimmy's number was lost to them. So his location was even more a blur. The only way she could hope to get into contact with him would be to call Bobby, or another hunter that could trace back to him.

Carter looked up at Booth. "I'd like to take that phone call now." Booth looked her over and mumbled, taking his phone out of his pocket.

"You stay right here where I can see you. And no funny business, you hear?" Booth demanded before handing over his phone. "And why don't you put it on speakerphone? I want to know who you're talking to."

Carter grabbed the phone and jut out her lip. "Can't I have a little privacy?"

"You're a warden of the state, you don't get any privacy."

Carter rolled her eyes and looked down at the phone. She flipped it on and ran Bobby's number over her mind before getting it correct and typing it in. She watched as the phone rang, flipping it to speakerphone, and Booth leaned towards her. She could also see Angela leaning discretely close behind Booth. The call went through and a thick voice answered.

"Hello?"

At hearing his voice, Carter's smile appeared. Just knowing he was listening was enough to comfort her.

"Hey Bobby, it's me." Booth watched as her face relaxed at a single word. It was the first time he'd seen her really smile, not just smirk.

There was a pause on the other end as Bobby processed what he heard. "Carter?" He asked, his tone disbelieving. "I thought I told you to call me if you were plannin' on escapin'."

Carter fumbled, not daring a glance at the agent in front of him. "I-," she started but stopped. She took a breath. "I'm with the FBI. You're on speakerphone."

Bobby didn't answer. Booth looked from the phone to the kid in front of him.

"Well, don't leave me hangin', kid. What's happened?"

Carter licked her lips. "They found Dean's body in a grave. They brought me in to help find his killer."

"Idjit," he muttered after a pause. "What do you need from me?"

"Jimmy Spacer, how long has it been since he contacted you?"

Bobby sighed. "A couple months back he needed to know how to kill some Pagan god. I told him to stick it where the sun don't shine and forget my number. Seems like he forgot about Texas." He paused. "Did he do it?"

Carter didn't answer his question. "Do you still have his number?"

Bobby sighed, "Yeah, gimme a second." Papers could be heard sifting on his end for a minute before he came back. Booth reached around for a piece of paper as Bobby recited his number. "If you find him, give me a call."

"Sure thing, Bobby," Carter replied.

Before both hung up the phone, Bobby muttered, "Idjit."

Instead of handing the phone back to Booth, she began typing Jimmy's number in. Booth looked between the phone and the paper in his hands. He noticed the similarities and immediately snatched the phone back from her hands. His eyes blazing, he glared into the young teen's face.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? You could've just blown this entire case!" Booth cried. Carter's handcuffs clinked as she lowered her wrists down.

"I'm _working_ this case, that's what the hell I'm doing. I don't see you doing anything! I just gave you his name, his phone number, and soon to be his location if you just give me the damn phone back."

"And what was your plan, huh?" Booth calmed down. "Ask him where is? Tell him to turn himself in to the nearest police station?"

"No," Carter rolled her eyes. She changed her voice as she would talk on the phone, "'Hey, Jimmy, it's Carter Winchester. I could use your help on a case here in D.C., seeing as Dean has been MIA and Sam is, well, I'm sure you heard. I don't know many hunters out this way, and I've known you forever, it seems, so I figured why not give you a call?'" Her voice changed back to normal. "And then I'd tell him to meet me at that motel we passed on the way here and I'd popped a cap in his ass and call it a day."

Booth remained silent. He leaned back from Carter. Booth had known her a whole whopping ten hours and killing him was the last thing he expected her to say. To him, killing was a last resort; never would it be a first option. But to Carter? Damn, she made it sound like it was just another Tuesday to her.

"So?" Carter asked, since Booth neglected to answer. "Are we doing this or not?" She reached towards the phone in Booth's hands.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You don't just go around killing people," Booth responded softly and quietly.

Carter lowered her hands. "No, you're right. Normally I would say 'talk first, shoot later.' But this sonofabitch killed my brother; he doesn't get the choice of living. The best he can get now is a bullet to the brain." Again, she gestured toward the phone.

"No," he stepped back a step. "If anything, I'll go undercover to get him, but you're not doing anything. It seems like you forgot who's in charge here."

Carter scoffed. Both at the fact that he thought he could pass as a hunter and that he thought he was in charge. To play it safe she decided to go with the former. "Any hunter worth their shit would spot you a mile away."

Booth shrugged. "It's not the first time I've gone undercover. I'll just throw on some camo and I'll be fine."

Carter started laughing, but at Booth's face she pretended to cough instead. "Wrong kind of hunter, sweetheart. We don't hunt Bambi, we hunt monsters." At Angela and Booth's looks, Carter decided to abandon mission and get the heat off her back. "Would you mind pointing me towards the bathroom? I've been holding it since prison."

They both remained quiet. Angela walked up next to Booth, the tablet missing from her hands. "I can take her," she broke the silence softly. Booth nodded his head.

"I'll be just outside the door if you need me."

Angela started walking out of her office but when Booth neglected to pull out the handcuff keys, Carter waited. "You gonna unlock me?"

Booth laughed. "Nice try, kid."

Carter licked her lips and turned on her heel, swallowing her comments and following Angela to the bathroom. The bathroom wasn't far away, which could be counted as both good and bad. But the handcuffs were her problem. She wasn't actually going to go, but she wanted them to stop chafing her wrists. It was safe to say they weren't made with comfort in mind.

As they walked in, Angela stood in front of the mirrors, adjusting her hair. Carter went straight to the stall closest to the clouded windows. As she shut the door behind her, finally not being watched so harshly, she felt the gush of emotions wash over her. Silently, several tears dropped down her face as she sat there. Ignoring the presence of Angela, she brought her hands to her face and took in a shuddering breath.

Everything that had happened in the last hour since she'd been away from the FBI building crashed over her head. Finally seeing her dead brothers, peering at a car that was once so lively, and finding out an old friend made that all happen. She took in another shuddering breath, this time a sob escaping afterwards. She closed her eyes, digging her fists into them.

On the other side of the stall, Angela stopped what she was doing after the sob. She looked over her shoulder towards the stall the girl was in and frowned. All this time, she'd only been seeing Carter as a criminal, not as a living, breathing teenager. One who should be going to football games and dances instead of sitting in prison for the rest of her life. Although there was nothing she could do about that.

After several minutes, Carter wiped the tears off her cheeks and stood up. She flushed the toilet, despite not having even gone, and opened the door. Immediately, Angela turned to watch her.

Angela didn't say anything, just smiled sadly. Carter walked to the sink and began washing her hands. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Angela watching her with a sad expression.

"I'm not a bad person, you know," Carter supplied. She turned the water off and stared down at her drying hands. "They locked me up because a lot of the people I meet end up dead. And they think I killed them." She took a deep breath. "But that's not my problem. My problem is that I couldn't save enough of them." She shook her hands, flinging water droplets everywhere, the handcuffs clinking. She looked up at Angela, who had turned her body towards Carter. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about them every single day."

Carter started walking towards the paper towel dispenser next to the door. Angela followed Carter. "What do you mean you couldn't save them? Save them from what?" Carter grabbed a towel, turning back towards Angela. A look of both sadness and reluctance shined up at the woman. "From monsters?" She asked. "I mean, that's what you said earlier, but" Angela started faltering. "I mean obviously monsters aren't real." Carter shrugged, turned around, and headed out the door.

Walking out the door, she immediately spotted Booth. He leaned against the wall checking his phone not too far from the bathroom.

"Alright! So," Carter started as she approached Booth. Angela noticed Booth and headed up to the platform on her own. "If you're going undercover as a hunter still, you seriously need my help. You need to wear a flannel shirt, jeans, and work boots. I assume I'm not allowed to join in, so I suggest letting me stay in a van parked not too far away so I can listen to what's happening and tell you how to respond."

Booth cut in. "I don't need your help, it's not the first time I've been undercover. It's all common sense. The only place you're going is back to prison."

Carter rolled her eyes. "You may have been undercover before, but you've never posed as one of us. Its miles different. Have you lost anyone?"

At her last statement, Booth froze. "Excuse me?"

"Have you lost someone?" Carter repeated and sighed once he still didn't answer. "99% of hunters get into hunting because they've lost someone they love in a weird way. For my dad, it was his wife. For others, it could be their husbands, their kids, their best friend. Really, anyone you're close to. That other 1% get into hunting because they themselves almost died by or saw something that wasn't natural." She paused. She bounced forward on her toes and looked away from Booth. "And then there's me." She shook her head when Booth remained silent, set on changing the subject. "So, if you've lost someone, keep that hurt in the back of your head, controlling the manner in which you hold yourself. If you haven't, then imagine you did."

Hands on his hips, Booth looked into Carter's eyes. A question had been burning in his brain ever since he got her file. And now finally he had his chance. "Your file doesn't mention what happened to your dad, just that he disappeared when Sam and Dean were kids. There's a couple reports of him checking you kids into school, but after a while they just stop."

Carter paused, just watching Booth. Finally she answered, "He died." Both of them locked eyes. "Spent his last few hours protecting us."

Booth's eyes softened at the realization. The FBI never found anybody else related to the Winchesters, so except for friends, Carter was really alone. "I'm sorry," Booth's voice remained low and apologetic.

Carter shrugged, uncomfortable with the "chick flick" moment, a trait she inherited from her brother. "It's fine. I mean, he was hardly ever around anyway," she half-lied. "Can we just get back to the case?"

Booth nodded, "Yeah." He looked up at the main platform for Sweets, finding him watching the monitor. "Here, come with me." He led her up to the platform where Dr. Brennan, Dr. Sweets, Wendell, and Angela all stood around. Booth led her over to the railing on the other side of the sets of remains and took out his handcuff keys. Carter's eyes brightened when she saw them.

"Are you finally trusting me without cuffs?" Booth unlocked one wrist and before Carter could even think, he twisted the cuff under the railing and locked it back onto her wrist. She frowned and tried to lift her hands up, already knowing the outcome. "Seriously?" Booth ignored her and called over to Sweets, who bounded over immediately. Their backs to Carter, they spoke in hushed tones, Sweets nodding his head a couple times. Finally, Booth turned and walked down the stairs and walked out of the building. Carter turned towards Sweets but didn't say anything. When he didn't say anything back, Carter sighed and looked around. Sweets pulled up a stool and sat near Carter. The building grew to a rushed hushing of motions. Everybody did as they normally would do on a Tuesday night. Soon, many of them forgot a criminal was even there.

* * *

An hour and 45 minutes later, Booth came strolling back in the building. All of the regular workers had gone home so all that remained was Dr. Brennan, Dr. Sweets, Angela, Hodgins, and Wendell. About 40 minutes ago, Booth had called asking for a meeting place, since they couldn't meet at the motel. "Too many innocent people around if things should go south," Booth had explained. Carter then suggested an abandoned house, to which Booth agreed. While at the FBI building, Booth had also called Jimmy to set up the meeting. He ended up telling him that he was a newer hunter based around the D.C area and he could use his help on a hunt. A skinwalker, he explained. (All of this, of course, with the guidance of Carter.)

Carter sat on the floor, her hands still cuffed, but resting above her head now, stuck on the top railing. Certain Carter wasn't going to escape, Sweets had abandoned his post next to the girl and had taken to walking around the platform. Angela and Hodgins were hidden away in Angela's office and Dr. Brennan and Wendell both stood at a set of remains. The glass doors clanged open as Booth strolled in, his shoes making clicking noises as he walked.

Carter gazed tiredly behind her as Booth swiped his card, entering the platform. She remained on the ground as the agent walked over towards her.

"Stand up, let's go, I'm taking you back to prison."

"Yes, sir," Carter mumbled as she stood up, Booth simultaneously pulling out his keys. He unlocked her from the railing but promptly locked her hands back together. None of the doctors bothered to pay any attention to the girl. But as Agent Booth and the girl headed of the platform, Carter called back, "Nice meeting you all!"

That night, lying in bed on her uncomfortable prison mattress, her nightmares returned. She remained still, her blanket trapping her as Sam's eyes loomed before her. It had taken her months to get rid of these images. Months. And they were back just like that. All because Agent Booth decided to bring it back up.

To say she slept terrible that night would be an understatement.

* * *

Let me know what you think of this chapter, follow if you haven't done so, and I'll see you all next week! We only have two more chapters to go!


	4. Chapter 4

Welcome back everyone! I'm so grateful for all of the positive feedback I've been given; it really does mean a lot to me!

Unfortunately, this chapter is shorter than the rest by far, but what it lacks in length, I believe it makes up for in substance. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, Bones, or any of their characters. I only own Carter and Jimmy.

Anything in italics is a flashback!

* * *

The next morning, Carter was back in Agent Booth's care. She rode in the back of his car on the way to the FBI headquarters. Dark bags hung under her eyes, and if Booth noticed, he didn't say anything. Her bobby pin was again stashed on the bottom of her undershirt. She remained quiet, her body now running on anger and revenge.

Arriving at the building, Agent Booth led her up to his office level. He sat her down in a nearby seat as he stood in front of the bullpen and debriefed the agents on what they were doing today. Carter was introduced as an informant who would be coaching Booth on what to say. She would stay in the van parked down the street along with two agents. Booth was going into the abandoned house alone. After telling the involved agents where they would be stationed, he dismissed them to their work and led Carter into his office. He shut the door behind him.

Carter stood looking around as Booth went to his desk. Sports memorabilia, wanted posters, newspaper articles, all hung on the walls. It was like testosterone threw up in there. Booth took off his coat, revealing himself clad in jeans and a t-shirt. His feet were shoved into black and blue sneakers. Carter watched absently as he ruffled through a brown bag and pulled out a red flannel. As he pulled the flannel on, all she could see was Dean.

 _Dean flicked the collar of his flannel down and pushed the sleeves farther up._

" _Didn't you wear that shirt yesterday?"_

 _Dean smiled._

" _It's not dirty and it doesn't smell, I call that a win, worthy of another day's wear."_

"You look good," Carter supplied softly as Booth fixed his sleeves.

"Yeah?" Booth asked. "You think I could pass as one of you hunters?" The word still felt a little foreign on his tongue. He'd only ever used the word in relation to bears and deer. But there was a whole culture out with the same name.

Carter shrugged. "Pretending to be a hunter is more in the way you act, less on how you dress. However, the flannel doesn't hurt."

Booth half smiled and continued to fix his outfit. After a moment of silence, he asked, "You never told me exactly what it is you guys do. All I know is what I see from a lawful point of view." Carter looked away from Booth and watched the ground. "We both know that's not always the whole truth." His voice became soft and the room hushed.

Outside the office, agents continued to work and prepare for the undercover mission; their moves became muffled through the glass. A tiny analog clock hung on the wall, sending out its warnings. Carter's handcuffs made small clinking noises as her wrists moved.

Carter took a breath. "We save people," her voice came out slow, "and kill bad things." She looked up at the quiet man. "Sometimes it's best not to know any more." After a few seconds, she took another deep breath and smiled. "Let's just get this over with, huh?" Booth nodded, pulling his gun out from his drawer. He attached it under his pant leg and grabbed his coat. Carter turned heel and they both headed out of the office.

It was coming up on their meeting date, after all.

Forty-five minutes later, Carter sat backwards on a rolling chair in the tiniest van she'd ever seen. Computer monitors lined both sides of the walls and other various types of equipment sat on the tables. A small microphone stood in front of Carter's face to relay her words back to Booth. A woman sat behind her off to her left at another wall of computers while a man sat directly to her left. And needless to say, Carter's hands were still handcuffed.

Staring at the screen displaying vocal levels, she sighed. She bent down and scooted back so her chin rested on the back rest, her hands dangling in front of her and the chair. Not too long ago, she had taken the bobby pin off her shirt and gripped it between her fingers. She was waiting, however, to start to pick the lock on her handcuffs.

"I think he's here," Booth whispered over the speaker. He stood in the kitchen of the abandoned house one house away from the van. (They convinced the next-door neighbor to allow them to park the nondescript van in their driveway for a couple hours.) The sound of the rotted wooden door of the house opening sounded over the speakers. Carter watched the monitor displaying the footage of the front door. An older, recognizable man stood in front of it, his black jacket standing out against the white walls of the house. His graying hair and scruffy beard an immediate memory for Carter.

 _He stood in the kitchen of the motel room, not saying a word. He leaned against the counter, staring down at the ground. Carter sat on the couch next to Sam, pretending to watch tv. John and Dean stood around the quiet visitor._

 _Carter's eyes roamed over every aspect of his face. From the furrowed brows to the blood stuck in his beard._

" _It's not your fault he died, John. It's not your fault."_

"Jimmy Spacer?" Booth asked as he opened the door a little. Jimmy briefly looked the man in front of him over head to toe.

"You the new hunter?"

Booth nodded and stuck out his hand. "Buck Moosejaw, nice to meet you."

Jimmy eyed Booth one more time as he took in his ridiculous name. Deciding to ignore it, he stuck out his own hand and shook Booth's. "Jimmy," he supplied his own name. Booth opened the door up wider and let Jimmy step into the room.

"So how'd you find hunting, Buck?" Jimmy asked as he walked into the house, looking around. Carter perked up slightly in her seat so her mouth could reach the microphone.

"Your wife was possessed by a demon and tried to kill you," Carter replied, thinking of the first monster that came to her head.

Booth paused before relaying the message in a sorrow tone. Not looking at Booth, Jimmy nodded in understanding. He continued to walk farther into the house with Booth trailing behind him.

"Is this your first hunt?" Jimmy asked, his hands in his pockets, he turned slightly towards Booth. Meanwhile Carter bent the bobby pin and started quietly digging it into the lock on the cuffs.

"It's your second," Carter replied.

"No, it's my second."

Jimmy turned towards Booth in slight shock. "Really? What was your first?"

Carter thought for a mere second before declaring, "You raided a nest of vampires." And she immediately regretted it. Vampires were _not_ a first time hunting gig. They were the fifteenth, at least.

Booth relayed the message and Jimmy turned to him in more shock. "A vamp nest? Well hell, if you've done a vamp nest, you don't need my help." He turned to Booth. Carter felt the familiar click as one side of the cuffs unlocked. She slid one wrist off and looked across the counter. Not too far from her and not directly in front of the Agent was his gun. She very easily could stand up, grab it, and escape out of that van.

"How did you get my number, anyway?" Jimmy continued, suspicion in his voice.

Deciding now was the best time, since Jimmy didn't act like he was staying much longer, Carter stood up and grabbed the agent's gun at the same time. She stepped away from her chair as both agents turned towards her.

"Don't move," she commanded as she held the gun towards them. She looked over the woman agent that had sat behind her. "Give me your gun." The agent didn't move until Carter trained the gun on her. She handed the gun over and Carter walked towards the cab doors, her gun never leaving them. She flew out the door and headed next door to the house Booth was in. Passing by a bush, she flung the extra gun in it and headed towards the house's backdoor. She paused, took a breath, and kicked the door in.

* * *

Let me know what you think of this chapter, follow if you haven't done so, and I'll see you all next week! Only one more chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

Hello hello hello! Thank you all so much for the amazing feedback! It really means a lot to me and I look forward to reading it all!

I really loved writing this chapter and looked forward to writing it since I began this story! I hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, Bones, or any of their characters. I only own Carter and Jimmy.

Anything in italics is a flashback!

* * *

The door crashed in, slamming into the wall behind it. The gun trained in front of her, she slowly walked into what she recognized as the kitchen. The next room over grew quiet. As Carter turned the corner in the kitchen, she found Booth standing next to Jimmy, who held a gun up of his own, aimed at Carter's head.

"Baby Winchester," Jimmy cried out, laughing slightly. "Thought you were in prison."

"Mr. Jimmy," Carter mocked Jimmy, using her old nickname for him, "thought you'd buried the hatchet with us." Her hand held firm on the gun. "Oh no, that's right, you just tried to bury Dean."

Jimmy ignored her statement. "How'd you get out?"

"FBI decided to bring me in to catch you. I did pretty good, didn't I?"

Jimmy sighed, lowered his gun a bit before lifting it back up. "Lemme guess: you're not really a new hunter, are you?" He looked over at Booth who had been uncharacteristically quiet.

Carter chuckled. "Ah, no. Good one though, right? He's Special Agent in Charge, Mr. Booth." She readjusted her grip on the gun. "Oh, and while we're at it, would you mind calling off the backup your agents in the van called for? I'm not feeling the extra company."

"I don't know, Agent Booth, but I think I would listen to her. A pissed off Winchester is the worst kind of Winchester you can encounter. You never know what they're gonna risk," Jimmy helped. "Trust me, I know."

Booth reluctantly talked into his microphone, telling his backup to hold off until he gave the signal. Carter turned back to Jimmy, her gun never leaving his direction. Her hand held firm.

The room grew silent. The birds outside could barely be heard, no creatures were found scurrying through the walls, no wind was blowing. One car passed every ten minutes or so, going only about 35. Nobody walked on the sidewalk. A dog about a block down the road barked three times and stopped. Anyone who had a phone in that house had it on silent. No calls or texts came in.

It was as if the three occupants froze. Carter's face showed anger and sadness. Booth's expressed attentiveness and control. Jimmy's showed resentment and anger towards Carter.

Slowly, Carter started shaking her head. "All those times," She muttered, looking her old friend over, "all those times you kept in contact, all those times you watched Sammy and I, all those times you helped us. What was the point if you just hated us?"

Jimmy scoffed. "You can't just walk up to a Winchester and kill them. You'd just end up killing yourself." By now, both of the hunters had forgotten about Booth, forgotten about the guns they pointed at each other. It was just them talking. "No, you have to get to know them, watch how they hunt, watch where their weaknesses lie. And fortunately for me, your weaknesses are each other. I mean _seriously_ , you guys would give up _anything_ for each other. It's pathetic, really."

"Shut up," Carter spat out, her eyes narrowing to slits.

"No seriously," Jimmy laughed. "I mean, I'd heard about Sam dying over that yellow eyed demon shit and being brought back, but I didn't believe it until I saw him in person. And all Dean had to give up was his own life? Man, I don't care who you are: once you're dead, you stay dead."

"Are you trying to tell me that you never thought about bringing your son back?"

"Thought about it? Hell yeah. Actually done it?" Jimmy paused and looked Carter straight in the eyes. He lowered his voice, "and how would I know what he would be like when he came home? Don't try to tell me Sam was the same when he came back."

" _Just kill 'em. Everyone would be safer this way."_

"And don't even get me started on Dean; though he's a different story. I heard you guys had a little help bringing him back."

" _Who are you?"_

" _I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."_

" _Yeah, thanks for that."_

Carter had taken to locking her jaw shut in anger.

"But anyway, back to what I was saying," Jimmy continued. "I had initially planned on killing your father. I decided to suck up my anger towards him for the time being so he could still trust me. If, at any point, he stopped trusting me, my plan would be ruined. Everything was going fine until that fucking demon killed him."

Carter's eyes slightly widened and she lowered her gun briefly. "That's why you left us? After that night you never called, you never showed up. For a little bit there, we thought you died, too."

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right." Carter fixed her gun so it was once again pointing at Jimmy. "I had to take some time off, adjust my plan, figure out the best time to do it."

"To kill Dean, you mean," Carter spit, her anger towards Jimmy once again coming back strongly.

Jimmy shrugged. "Actually, it was you for quite some time."

Carter lowered her gun completely. All her anger left and was replaced with shock. Booth moved closer to Carter as her focus was no longer on shooting.

"Me?" Carter asked.

"Yeah, of course. At the time, you seemed the most logical person. The littlest Winchester, the weakest one, the one no one really expects too much from. All you were taught to do was hunt; there's no real future for you," Jimmy smiled. "Nonetheless, you are probably the one that would be missed the most. Which is really the best part; it would hurt your brothers the most. Oh, could you imagine their faces?"

"What stopped you?" Carter interrupted, not wanting to hear this anymore.

"Well," he chuckled, "your brothers, of course. You see, the youngest and weakest sibling is always protected by the strongest and oldest ones. It would be a lot harder to get to you than to get to Sam or Dean. If I were to kill one of them, I would only have to worry about the other one coming to get me. But with you, I have double the threats."

Carter nodded slowly in understandment. "So with Sam gone, Dean became an obvious choice."

Jimmy started laughing, his eyes crinkling in happiness. "Hell yeah! I was preparing for the damn apocalypse with him and he went down in three blows!"

Anger rushing back into her, she forcefully aimed the gun at Jimmy and took a step forwards.

"How could you?" Carter's voice started to shake and tears began forming in her eyes. Staring at an old family friend, someone whom she trusted with her life, listening to him talk about killing her brother, it all began to eat away at her.

"Very simply. You kill my family, I kill yours."

Her lip wobbling, Carter took in her surroundings. Booth stood to her left, about three feet away; he glanced between Carter and Jimmy. Jimmy stood in front of her about 6 feet away, gun still aimed at her head.

Staring into Jimmy's eyes, Carter forced out a smile. "That's an interesting motto, mind if I borrow it?" Before either of the men could protest, she lowered the gun to Jimmy's chest and fired two shots, one on each side of his heart. (She couldn't allow herself to aim directly at his heart; he was still an old family friend that she looked up to at one time.) Plus, with Jimmy still alive a little, it gave Carter time.

Booth sprang into action, launching himself at Carter and sending her spiraling to the ground. The gun slipped out of her hand and landed several feet away. Booth immediately started yelling into his microphone for backup to come in as he stood up and ran over to Jimmy. He grabbed a piece of Jimmy's shirt and started adding pressure to his wound. He repeated over and over that he was going to be fine, backup was on its way. He was going to jail, but he was going to be fine.

Meanwhile, Carter stood up on shaky legs, trying to regain the wind that was knocked out of her. She watched Booth carefully as held his back to her and as she stumbled towards the back door. Noticing the gun was far out of reach, she ignored it, instead focusing on getting the hell out of there. Quickly, she turned her heel and sprinted through the kitchen and out the door, disappearing into the woods behind the house.

* * *

Three months later, Carter sits on a crappy motel bed in the butt-crack of the Midwest. Her clothes are thrift store at best; her hair cut at least four inches shorter and with bangs. The motel manager knows her by Margie Smith and she doesn't exist to anyone she doesn't need to. She carries only a backpack full of essentials, and even that changes whenever she can find new stuff.

The remote in her hand clicks to the local news station as they relay images of her mug shot, followed by an image of Jimmy's dead face.

"The fugitive Carter Winchester is still at large following the murder of Jimmy Spacer. She was brought undercover by Special Agent Seeley Booth three months ago, who had enlisted her help to capture the man that killed Samuel and Dean Winchester. That man was believed to be Spacer; the undercover mission went south when Winchester shot Spacer in the chest twice, who ended up dying on the way to the hospital. Winchester managed to get away while Agent Booth attempted to stop Spacer's bleeding.

"Investigations into the whereabouts of Winchester still continue; she is believed to be hiding out in the North or South Dakotas. She is known to stay in motels for several days at a time before moving to the next town. Police are warning the public that she is armed and dangerous. If anyone has any information on the location of Carter Winchester, please notify the number on the screen."

The screen flashed to a 1-800 number and an image of her mugshot.

"Back to you in the studio, Tom."

Sighing, Carter flopped back down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. The motel quieted down; the tv humming softly to another news report, the air conditioner droning slowly on, the broken shower head dripping every few minutes. The motel room was dark, the only light coming from the small tv.

In the morning, she would leave again. Maybe this time she would head to the west coast, maybe visit Stanford, or even head back out east. She had no real plan; a quality in herself that would really start coming in handy. Perhaps she would start hunting again, or maybe she would give it up for a couple years. She had the rest of her life to decide what she could do, and that would stop whenever she got tired of running.

* * *

Let me know what you think of this chapter and leave a nice pretty review if you have the time! I really hoped you enjoyed this story! If you want to read more about my character Carter, I have a separate story on her called "Her Life and Other Tragedies," so you can check that out on my page!

Thank you all for reading!


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